Too Bad
by floral cactus
Summary: Illya is sick, and of course he doesn't tell anyone until he ends up puking on the very nice, very expensive hotel carpet. Gaby/Illya one-shot.


TOO BAD

Illya was sprawled on the couch, his massive body looking dangerously close to falling off of its small frame. His eyes were closed and his sandstone hair was ruffled. All in all it looked like he was having a rough night.

"Oh my god." Gaby said to Solo as they entered the room. "I have never seen him asleep. Ever. And we shared this same hotel room for a solid week!"

"Well he is a monster, so I just assumed that he just never needed to," Solo smoothly replied, walking over to the kitchen where the alcohol was stored. He liked to get started as soon as they were relieved for the evening.

Gaby smirked and walked over to Ilya's immobile figure, and stood over top of him. His facial features were twitching every so often and his face was slowly becoming more flushed. His finger tapped against his leg, but he still appeared asleep. "Hey Solo, do you think he's having a nightmare?"

Solo returned with two glasses filled to the brim and peered over at the Russian. "Oh…I wouldn't call that a nightmare." He winked at Gaby and she recoiled instinctively, blushing herself. She gladly accepted the drink.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?"

Solo raised his eyebrows, waiting for Gaby to continue.

"I've always wanted to ride a Russian." Gaby was grinning, her drink sloshing onto the plush carpet when she moved towards the big man. She brushed her right hand against Illya's tummy, testing whether he would jerk awake and strangle her. He didn't kill her immediately so she took that as a good sign. She lifted one leg over top of his side and straddled him, turned towards his face. Then she shifted towards Solo. "Do you think he wants a drink?"

Solo was enjoying this torment of the Russian, because he knew that Illya was going to start awake any moment now and face utter confusion. And possibly fling Gaby into a wall which may be lethal but will be entertaining nonetheless. "I think scotch is just what he needs."

Gaby snickered, then leaned over Illya's face, and felt heat radiating from him. "I hope this refreshes you, big guy," and she screamed and dumped the liquid into his face.

His body reacted immediately and Gaby felt his muscles tense and he shifted into an upright position, making Gaby tumble backwards. His big hands grasped her wrists and his eyes were bleary. Gaby's heart was pounding but was relieved to see that he was drink-in-my-face-confused, rather than full Russian assassin mode.

"What…" Illya croaked, blinking hard. He was still holding Gaby's wrists uncomfortably hard, but she was too satisfied to object. "What are you…"

Meanwhile, Solo was laughing at the Russian's obvious fumble. "Nice job at being an agent. One drink in your face and suddenly you become a timid beast. I expected more from you, like at least throwing ol' Gaby across the room."

"Hey," Gaby complained.

And then Illya promptly leaned over and vomited onto the carpet.

Gaby scrambled backwards and Solo ran towards them. "What the fuck?" One of them said as they watched Illya violently puke his guts out on the plush carpet. Gaby slapped her hand against his forehead and recoiled from how hot it was, despite still being wet from her drink. Solo ran to the bathroom.

"Illya, are you okay? Oh my god I am so sorry," Gaby sputtered, touching his convulsing back. He groaned and lifted his head back onto the couch, as if it was a big effort. His eyes were open to slits.

"I'm…fine." Illya groaned as wiped vomit from his face with the back of his hand. "Just…" He couldn't finish the sentence and instead looked away from her.

Solo's shouts of satisfaction echoed from the bathroom. He jogged through hotel room, carrying a first-aid case and another bag that was completely black except for a bright green dot in the centre. Towels were slung over his shoulders. He threw the first-aid case to the edge of the couch, chucked the towels at Gaby, and instead focussed on opening the black bag.

Illya eyed it suspiciously but didn't say anything.

"Gaby, be a dear and get those rags wet. I do believe our Russian has gotten himself a little fever." Solo said, smirking. But his smile didn't soften the concern in his eyes.

Gaby moved off of Illya's chest and he moaned quietly at the movement. She looked back at him, but Illya was still not looking at her. She bit her lip and ran to the kitchen sink, twisting on the cold tap. She put her finger under the faucet, waiting for the water to get icy cool.

Solo was preoccupied with his black bag. Inside of it as a small silver brief case. It also had the same green dot in the centre of it. He clicked it open and took a moment to admire its contents.

Inside of it were four vials, each of them containing an opaque green liquid. Solo took the first vial out and carefully closed the briefcase and put it back inside the bag. He grimaced when he glanced over at the Russian.

Illya also paled when he saw the vial. "Oh no, I don't need…that," He whispered, shifting himself further away from Solo.

"Sorry, partner, but I believe you do." Solo replied, twisting off the top of the vial. He swished the contents of the container delicately. "We have no idea why you're ruining the wonderful carpet, and the agency's doctor will not be able to come here in time. We need to stall. This just happens to be an unpleasant solution."

"Not…unpleasant for…you." Illya spat at him.

Gaby returned to his side, grasping dripping hand towels. She was careful to avoid the vomit on the ground and instead went on the couch again, configuring herself in the small pockets of available space left on the piece of furniture. She leaned over to Illya and placed a cool towel on his forehead, feeling his body relax with relief. "What exactly is that green stuff?" She asked, holding one towel against his forehead, and used the other to wipe the sticky alcohol off his face.

"I'm glad you asked, Gaby. This _green stuff_ as you so eloquently put it is the emergency time saver. It is used to flush poison out of someone's, in this case the Russian's, body. Immediately. It is effective in gaining more time for an agent to get to a safe house with medical doctors. And since we don't know if it even is poison, how long this big brute has been feeling like this, and that the closest doctor that will be sent here is at least two hours away, this _green stuff_ will most likely save his life."

"It also will make me feel like shit. Immediately, as you say." Illya grumbled.

"Well, yes."

Illya sighed, then shakily reached over for the vial. Gaby instead snatched it up and brought it to his lips. "You're too slow," she teased half-heartedly. Rather than be treated like a child, Illya grabbed the vial from her hands and tilted it back. He swallowed the contents in one gulp. Gaby could feel the shudder of revulsion through his body.

"Good job team. Now I'm off to get that doctor, so you know, he won't die." Solo announced and went to leave.

"Don't wait until the last possible moment, Napoleon." Gaby hissed at him. "Not like when you let Illya _drown_ while you were having a picnic."

Solo chuckled, "Gaby, Gaby, Gaby…this is nothing like that. I don't want him to ruin the _entire_ hotel room with his bodily fluids. Someone has to pay for damages and I would rather that not be me." And with a wink, Solo slammed the door shut.

An awkward silence hung above Gaby and Illya's heads as she was holding the towels while he had one hand pressed against his stomach while the other was draped over her leg. His thumb absently brushed against her skin in small circles. They stayed in this moment for a few minutes, Gaby feeling guilty and Illya feeling like shit.

"Gaby…" Illya said quietly. He was looking straight up at the ceiling.

"Yes?" She replied hesitantly.

"I need assistance." He said, "I need to get to the bathroom."

"Oh!" She scrambled off of him. "Shit, sorry."

He grimaced and pushed himself upwards off of the couch. He unsteadily took a few steps before Gaby clung to his side and tried to give the giant as much support as she possibly could. But if he fell, there was no way she would be able to stop both of them from collapsing. Fortunately, they managed to stumble to the doorway of the bathroom. She swung the door open for him and he staggered forward and fell onto his knees in front of the toilet. He began puking again and the sound hurt Gaby's ears.

Illya cursed in Russian between breaths and clutched his sides tightly. Gaby left to get a glass of water, and more wet hand towels. She was feeling utterly useless in this situation, especially since Illya could be dying right now and all she could offer him was a wet towel. When she returned Illya was still heaving, but nothing was coming out of him. He slid onto the ground and just sighed, eyes closed.

Gaby sat down beside him and placed the glass of water on the ground, waiting for a more opportune moment to offer it to him. She then grabbed the cloth and wiped his forehead once more. She still felt the heat radiating from him.

Gaby reached over and pulled the lever down on the toilet and flushed his vomit. At least he made it to the toilet this time and not on the carpet. She mentally criticized herself for sounding more like Solo everyday.

Illya still had his eyes closed but he reached for her. "Come here…little chop shop…girl." He said, his accent thick. Gaby obliged and put her hand in his. He laced his fingers through hers and pulled her closer. She examined the ground next to him and found it was puke free. She reached over him and grabbed the towels that were on the edge of the bathtub. She gently raised his head with her free hand and stuffed the towel underneath, and then placed one beside him for her own pillow. Then she let him pull her close.

Gaby was nestled next to him. More like surrounded by him. He had one hand grasping hers, while the other was slung over her body, and his entire form was curled around her. Dangerous heat was emanating from him and Gaby felt like she was in a sauna. But she also felt protected.

"Illya…?" She whispered, unsure if he was even conscious.

He grunted in response.

"I'm sorry for throwing a drink in your face."

"Oh…is that what you did?"

"I think I screamed in your ear while I did it too."

"Too be honest I was just…surprised you were on top of me."

Gaby felt herself flush. Fortunately, Illya would not be able to see her expression in the coil of his limbs around her. She allowed a substantial amount of time to pass until she posed her next question. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

She felt him stiffen in response. "I…I didn't…" He murmured, but never completed his sentence.

"Illya I thought you trusted me." He started to shift away from her, away from her words. Instead she wiggled upwards, and turned her body so that she was facing him. She grabbed his face, feeling the stubble rough against her skin. She made him look her in her eyes.

Their faces were close; their breaths could be felt against each other. It was quite an intimate moment on this bathroom floor.

"I didn't want you to see me weak." Illya said quietly. He looked both guilty and sad.

"You are such a flippin' idiot," Gaby hissed. "You're sick! You need medical attention! And yet you have such a stick up your ass that you won't even tell anyone that you might be dying until you puke up your guts in front of us."

"Sorry?" He said, visibly uncomfortable.

Gaby lowered her hands from his face and this time it was her turn to look away. She felt his stare drilling holes in her head.

"I'm sorry." He repeated and brought his face closer to hers, nuzzling her cheek with his forehead. "I'm so sorry."

Gaby sharply inhaled. Then exhaled slowly. She brought one of her hands over to his side and kept it there. As if confirming that the Russian was really by her side. Then a gurgle erupted from his stomach and Illya scrambled over to the toilet and puked, Gaby hitting her head on the hard tile floor in the process.

She groaned as she shifted upright, wincing when she touched her head. She cursed quietly to herself, then made her way over to Illya's heaving body. This time his vomit was bloody. She sat cross-legged, propped up by his bent legs. She closed her eyes and waited for him to be finished this round.

"I hate that green shit." Illya rumbled, and Gaby took that as the cue of him being done. She reached over to the abandoned glass of water and offered it to him. He took it gladly and downed it in two gulps. Then he took her by surprised her by embracing her tightly. He lifted her up easily and started carrying her out of the bathroom.

"Hey!" Gaby objected, and felt vaguely concerned because Illya's steps were not the most confident in his sick state.

"Time for bed little one," he whispered in her ear. There was not much Gaby could do to protest, as Illya had quite the firm grasp.

They were in the bedroom quickly, and suddenly she was dumped on the bed. For a split moment she did feel relieved to feel the down filled covers and the lush pillow that comforted her aching head. She was surprised again when Illya joined her, collapsing in the space next to her. His eyes glittered mischievously. He had never slept, or even laid down in a same bed as her.

"Are you feeling better?" Gaby asked hesitantly. She was still shocked at what situation they were in now.

He grinned and snuggled in next to her. "It is past your bedtime, little one."

She protested against it, pressing a hand against his chest. "You were, or are, dying. Now what's happening?" She squinted at him. "Are you delirious?"

"No, I am…fine." Illya said, touching her face gently with his hand. "A little worse for wear…but I am fine."

Gaby looked at him sternly. He was probably lying to her again. Before she could complain again he smothered her with his body and his weight was a comfortable reminder that he was with her.

Just earlier today she had been with Solo dealing with stealing some important data locked behind a vault, that was more importantly guarded by a whole heck of a lot of armed guards. She had had a full day. And now being with Illya in an huge, expensive hotel bed, she felt sleep tugging at her.

Gaby wiggled her arms underneath him, searching for his hands. When she felt his cold finger tips she intertwined her fingers with his and locked him in her grasp. Illya did not move in response, so she figured that he had fallen asleep pretty much immediately. With her eyelids heavy, each blink was longer than the last and eventually she succumbed to the darkness of sleep.

Illya was watching her. He watched her fight the battle against sleep and then lose. And he knew that she was a very heavy sleeper, as seen with his experience with carrying her to bed countless times when she passed out from one shot too many. When her eyes finally closed for what seemed like an eternity, he slowly unlatched his fingers from hers. Every part of his body ached, and it felt like his stomach was trying to devour itself. Every movement, every touch sent pain pulsing.

When he slid away from her, Gaby's hand instinctively reached out for him. He froze, thinking that she woke. But her fingers just grazed his leg, and then rested down onto the soft bed. Illya gave one last wistful look at her still body, and then staggered over to the bathroom. He grimaced when he saw what he had puked up. It was all blood. Gaby didn't need to be here to see him writhe and vomit. He slid down, leaning himself against the toilet. He didn't even know how it had gotten so bad. It started as just a small tummy ache, nothing too irritable, as if he was just hungry. But now it felt like his body was attacking itself, a final act of betrayal.

Illya stayed slumped like that for what felt like forever. He might have even fainted, because when he woke up it was because someone had kicked his foot. He could barely muster the strength to open his eyes, but Solo's smug expression was quite recognizable. Illya growled.

"Easy tiger…" Solo's voice sounded muddled, "we are going to get you all fixed up. But it's going to be like, well, a walk in hell."

Something cold pressed against his arm and he looked over. A stranger was next to him, garbed in a long white coat. His puzzled mind figured that this was the doctor. He was injecting him with something that felt like white hot lava, slowly oozing through his bloodstream. Illya didn't even have the energy to flinch. And then there was darkness. Finally.

"You are such a dick." Illya blinked in confusion. Everything was still black. "Like a massive, giant dick. It's like when you see someone step on a flower on purpose and you think to yourself _oh my god that guy is such a dick_."

Eventually the darkness was fading to bright white. A figure was standing in front of him. He was lying down?

"You know what Solo said when he came into the bedroom? 'Oh, I am _so_ glad you had time to sleep Gaby. Especially when the big brute is lying on the floor dying in the other room and I am missing out on doing anything _but_ scramble over the countryside searching for this elusive doctor. Good teamwork Gaby. Oh yeah, sure, the Russian _totally_ just picked you up and plopped you on the bed, when he could barely even open his eyes'. Like I said, you are such a dick."

Instead of Illya's body aching, it felt light, as if he was floating on nothing. Ready to fly away into the sky. When his eyes adjusted he recognized the fuming figure in front of him. He was so drugged that he didn't even feel guilty. That was nice.

Gaby glared at him, hands on her hips. "You are a liar."

Illya nodded, not knowing if he could speak. Being highly medicated was quite the treat.

"You don't trust me."

Illya shook his head.

She snorted in disbelief. "My god, and here I was thinking we were making progress last night."

Maybe he could just pretend he had gone mute. It sure was easier not forming awkward words with Gaby. She made life awkward. But also she made it gentle.

Illya reached out to her, the movement feeling slow. This whole recovery thing was not proving to be that good. His reflexes used to be so good. Gaby frowned, but took his hand anyways. He pulled her in close, but he felt her resist. The hesitation. That made his chest hurt.

"Gaby I trust you." Illya said, "but I also am not going to be a burden to you. Never. I thought it was in the best interests to let you go." The words even sounded lame to him.

"Dick."

"Too bad," he grunted, and pulled her hard towards her. She stumbled and fell on top of him, sending a wave of pain through his body. But it didn't feel nauseous so he continued his reeling in of Gaby. "Too bad that I want you." She was straddling him again, just like she did when he was unconscious on the couch. His hands slid up to her waist. "Too bad that I'm an idiot."

Gaby sighed, then leaned forward and planted her lips on his forehead. "Too bad you still have vomit breath." Then she smiled teasingly and pushed herself off of him, off of his grasp.


End file.
